


Heaven Is A Place On Earth

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Sometimes we all need to believe in something, or someone. Bodie realises that, in spite of it all, he does believe.





	Heaven Is A Place On Earth

Bodie knew exactly what it felt like to wake up after being drugged. And he instantly knew, without a doubt, that how he was feeling at the moment was a thousand times worse. 

He rolled from his side to his back and lay, arms and legs splayed out, not moving. His head pounded, his body ached, and his stomach roiled. But something made this awakening much worse than the other times he'd been drugged: the taste of blood and the intensely aching throb in his mouth. Bodie vainly tried to rouse himself enough to assess his situation, but the drug held him firmly in its grasp. His brain felt sluggish, and his body was heavy and slow. 

With a low groan, Bodie finally managed to open his eyes. He glanced around slowly, thoroughly confused. He had absolutely no idea where he was, but before he could examine his situation further, he felt his stomach lurch. His gut clenched as he swallowed, and blood slid down his throat, making him choke. He coughed harshly, and more blood spurted from his nose in messy bubbles. He swiped at the muck and smeared it across his lips with the back of one shaky hand. He turned his head as his stomach rebelled and managed to raise himself up just enough to vomit onto the ground instead of himself. Even when his traitorous stomach was empty, dry heaves kept him retching for many moments until they finally abated. 

Carefully lying back down, Bodie flopped his arm across his eyes, and with one hand holding his belly, drifted into a drug-laced, dream-filled sleep. 

\-----------------------------

Cold seeped into his bones while he slept until he woke abruptly, his teeth chattering. Pain jolted through his mouth, burning a path into his brain. He lay very still as he struggled to control it, focusing his hearing for the moment. Around him everything was quiet, save for the drip-drip-drip of water somewhere to his right. Shivering, his eyes opened, and he once again found himself in that same strange place he remembered from his brief surface to consciousness a while ago. Watery light seeped through broken spaces in the roof over his head, and he finally found the will to make himself take notice of his surroundings. 

Cautiously he sat up and looked around. He was in some sort of disused warehouse. The walls were concrete, with a warped and rusted metal roof. Strips of the metal had been pulled away, but the light that managed to filter through the breaks was weak. He could hear rain pattering against the tin, and he felt the occasional drop of water hit his face and arms. Further inspection revealed that he was enclosed by mesh fencing. He suddenly felt like a dog in a kennel as he glanced around. Bodie saw that the edges of the wire were firmly embedded in the old concrete floor and wall, and that the posts to which it was attached were buried as well. There was a gate in the centre of the front portion of his prison, and a thick chain was threaded through the links and fastened with a heavy-duty lock. 

He winced at the pain in his mouth. Using the tip of his tongue, he ran it along his teeth until it touched the sore spot, now surprisingly devoid of the two teeth that had been there the last time he'd checked. Even the gentle probe of his own tongue sent shards of pain lancing through his mouth. He parted his teeth to keep any pressure from the abused spot and cupped his face with a hand while he wondered what the hell had happened to his teeth... and to him. 

Even as he considered his injury, Bodie had absolutely no memory of how he had come to lose two of his molars, and from the amount of blood still oozing from the damaged gums, whoever had removed the teeth had done so with no thought or care. They'd been wrenched from his mouth without benefit of anaesthetic, he knew. "Bastards," Bodie thought, wincing when another jab of discomfort prickled in his mouth. 

Cradling his aching head between his hands, Bodie glanced down, and his breath jammed in his throat. The fact that he hadn't noticed his predicament fully until now gave way to the realisation that whatever drugs he'd been given had certainly done a number on him. His ankles were bound in thick iron bands, each graced with chain. His startled gaze followed the rusted metal links from his ankles, through the bolt holes on each one, and across the concrete to a large metal eyelet. The shank of the eyelet disappeared into the concrete, and the chain was linked firmly to it. His heart pounded as he leaned down and inspected the bands and the end links. They were not merely locked about his ankles with something that could be opened with a key or picked by a skilled hand, but they'd been welded closed with no means of removal without the benefit of a cutting torch. Bodie knew then that whoever had kidnapped him wasn't interested in ransom or any sort of bargain or trade. 

They meant to kill him – eventually. 

\----------------------------------

Bodie sat on the damp concrete, the dirty blanket on which he'd been dumped wrapped around his shoulders. The tattered tracksuit he was wearing, certainly not his own, did nothing to keep out the cold. He shifted again and pulled the blanket closer. When the blanket brushed his face he grimaced. The material smelled like cat's piss and mould, making him shudder. His mouth throbbed like the devil, and his entire body was freezing. Afraid to sleep lest he not wake up again, he kept his eyes trained on the patch of sky overhead. The rain had stopped for now, and he could see the occasional star as it winked out of the clouds. It wasn't the depths of winter at least, and for that he was grateful. He prayed for morning and for a warm, sunny day, then he wondered what Doyle was thinking this very moment. 

Bodie hadn't reported in this morning... This morning? With an irritated groan, he suddenly realised that he had no idea long he'd actually been unconscious. All he could do was hope that by now Doyle was past being vexed with him and was desperately searching for him. 

He knew exactly what Doyle would do. First, when he showed up at Bodie's flat to pick him up, he would lean on the buzzer. When that went unanswered, he would let himself in by ringing the neighbours and using that charm of his. Using his own key to enter Bodie's flat, he would realise that Bodie was missing. Doyle would be confused because he would know that Bodie wasn't out shagging some bird. At a sudden stab of pain in his heart, Bodie sat up straighter. At least he hoped that Doyle, with his quick-to-rise temper, didn't assume Bodie was out screwing around. But no, he told himself after a moment's reflection, surely they'd settled that already. He knew Doyle better than that, and Doyle knew that once Bodie gave his pledge, it was as good as gold. And pledged himself to Doyle he had, willingly and happily. 

Bodie almost smiled, though the pain in his mouth reminded him that any sort of movement wasn't such a good idea at the moment. The idea that Doyle would be worried and start an immediate search for him gave him a much-needed flush of warmth through his body. In spite of his dire predicament, it was with a contented heart that he cast his thoughts back to the past two weeks. As much as he hated the thought that he could very well die without seeing Doyle one last time, he wasn't surprised when he realised that he would die a happier man. Doyle had given him that, and for that he loved him beyond measure. 

Bodie closed his eyes. He was in pain, but inwardly, he was calm. He let himself retreat into his own inviting world, one that included Ray Doyle. Where he was warm and dry, and his belly was full. There he was in love... 

He had never expected to fall in love again, not after all these years, but somehow Doyle had inveigled his way into Bodie's life and into his heart. Finally, after more than a few years of dreaming that Doyle was in his bed, that dream had become a reality when they'd both finally admitted their mutual attraction. The new relationship had just been getting on its feet these past few weeks and now this had happened. He wouldn't even consider the pain that Doyle would suffer if he found his body. With fury running through his veins, he vowed to kill whoever had nabbed him the first chance he got. 

\---------------------------------- 

Jerked awake by the sound of sharp, staccato taps on the concrete, Bodie stifled a moan as the pain in his head lanced through his entire body. He pried open his eyes, angry that he'd succumbed to sleep. It had left him even colder. Shudders racked his body, and if nothing else, he needed to move or risk a slow death from hypothermia. The taps grew louder as they drew nearer. Bodie forced himself to his feet, using the wall for support. The chains clanked ominously and the dampness crept deeper into his bones. Ignoring his discomfort, he looked up at the approaching figure. 

Despite everything, his mind was coldly clear. He could see every detail of her face as she walked towards him. The lips formed a predatory smile, as cruel as any he'd seen before. And the eyes... the eyes held a gleam of satisfaction, and the sparkle of madness. 

"Mather... you bitch!"

"And a good morning to you as well, Mr Bodie." 

'What are you playing at?" Bodie demanded. "Legal field not enough for you? Decided to be your own judge, jury and executioner this time? Cut out those bloody minded middle men?" Bodie didn't even bother trying to keep the sneer from his face, and he felt a stab of pleasure when Gerry's eyes narrowed and her face flushed. 

"We have unfinished business." 

"You lost the case." 

"Not yet I haven't." 

Bodie felt a cold shiver crawl up his back when he saw the smug look on her face. "What have you done?" 

Mather's mouth quirked up on one side. "I'll have my justice." 

"Justice? You call what you tried to do to Doyle justice?" 

"You think you're above the law. You and Doyle and your precious Mr Cowley. Well, you won't get away with it any longer." 

Bodie glared at her, the feeling of dread building. "This is your last chance –"

"Or what?" Mather laughed coldly. "Come on, Mr Bodie. Or what?"

Bodie couldn't suppress the shiver that racked his body, but he refused to let his discomfort show on his face. The thin clothing he wore did nothing to dispel the cold that had seeped into his bones. The thought that she'd touched him while he was unconscious fuelled his anger. The ache in his mouth further reminded him that she'd done a lot more than touch him. And the sound of her voice made him clench his fists with rage. He shoved his hands into the pockets of the tracksuit and glared at Mather. 

"Are you listening to me?" Mather demanded. "No one deserves to wield that much power, least of all the members of CI5. It's my duty to remedy that situation immediately. So I've taken steps that will ensure your kind do not abuse their power in the future. I defend the weak and the abused." She stood, head held high and arms crossed, the picture of righteous indignation. 

"You're mad." 

Mather smiled. "I am doing what is right. You and that partner of yours, along with that smug bastard Cowley, need to be taught a lesson. And this time, I will be successful at teaching that lesson." 

Bodie glowered at his captor, his blood running cold. "If you touch Doyle, I'll kill you." Bodie pushed away from the wall. Fury coursed through his body as he stepped forward until the chains around his ankles brought him to an abrupt halt. 

Mather barely registered Bodie's threat. Instead, she raised an eyebrow as she reached into her handbag, retrieving a piece of paper. Then she gave him a calculating smile as she crumpled the paper in her fist and forcefully shoved it through the mesh, where it dropped to the floor a few feet in front of him. Momentarily ignoring the paper, Bodie kept his eyes trained on her, making her shrug and laugh. She turned away and called over her shoulder in a conversational tone, "Do enjoy your reading." 

Bodie retrieved the bit of paper, newsprint he realised as he sank to the floor and spread the it over his thigh to press out the worst of the creases. He took in the headline immediately: "Top CI5 Man Arrested for Partner's Murder". There was a picture accompanying the article. Doyle, held between two uniformed coppers, his hands cuffed behind him, snarling into the camera. 

Jesus, Ray, Bodie thought, staring at the picture of his partner. 

Bodie read the article quickly, then made himself reread it again and again. He leaned back against the wall, considering the new information. He was now considering murdered, his body missing. And best yet, his blood had been discovered all over Doyle's clothing, which conveniently had been found stuffed in a dustbin near a tube station only two blocks from Bodie's flat. Other than mentioning his name and some other sketchy details, there wasn't any more useful news in the article. 

Bodie pored over Doyle's picture. Where was he now? Had Cowley been able to keep him from being locked up? There was no way Cowley would believe for a moment that Doyle was capable of killing his partner, but how much influence did his boss have? Did he have the power to protect Doyle from any of this? Or did somebody above Cowley have something to say about how this entire mess would be handled? 

Bodie leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the newspaper clenched in his fist. 

\--------------------------------

Thirst woke Bodie in the night, thirst and a pounding headache. He pushed himself to a sitting position and tugged his ratty blanket closer around his shoulders. He sat very still, willing the pain away. He knew he had a fever, and that his mouth was likely infected. Wondering what day it was, he carefully rose when his thirst overcame his pain and found a spot on the wall where the rainwater trickled down the concrete. He cupped his hand and waited impatiently to gather some of the rusty-coloured water that ran down the wall into his palm before he drank. A few more handfuls, then he walked around while he stretched out his tight muscles and brought some warmth to his aching body. When he felt reasonably alert again, he sat with his back to the wall, legs crossed and leaned his head back. 

At the first sign of sunlight, he heard the echo of boot heels on the floor. Bodie stayed where he was, eyes closed. Maybe if the bitch thought he was unconscious, she'd open the door. Then he could make a move. 

"I thought you were a tough ex-merc, Bodie," she said without preamble. "Tsk. Tsk. Only a few days, and you're already looking like death warmed over. I'm heartily disappointed in you. I expected better from a man of your – many talents." 

Bodie opened his eyes when he realised she wasn't going to fall for his ruse. He didn't bother wasting energy to rise, but threw her a bored glance. "Bring us a bite to eat, love?" he asked cheekily. "How about a nice hot cuppa?" 

"No, I'm afraid not." Mather looked at her watch and gave a small sound of impatience. "I must run. I have an important breakfast meeting with clients. I did bring you something to keep you entertained during the long hours ahead of you." She again retrieved a section of newsprint from her handbag, balled it up and tossed it over the fencing. 

"Bitch," Bodie muttered at her retreating back. 

Bodie stayed where he was until she'd gone before he reached for the paper. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was in that paper. He didn't want to read about his own bloody memorial service, or about Doyle's arrest. He fervently hoped that the newspaper didn't hold anything worse than that. That was bad enough, but if something had happened to Doyle beyond that... 

For a second, his belly rumbled, but he ignored it, and it settled back down. Funny thing about food, he considered as he once again unrolled the paper and used his palm to smooth it out. After a while, you forgot all about it. It was the thirst that never seemed to go away. 

Paper in hand, he held it up and read. The headline stood out in stark black letters: "Homosexual CI5 Agent Kills Own Lover". His hands shook with rage as he read the article. Bodie's own car had been found abandoned in a wood fifty miles outside London. The boot was soaked with blood and there were two human teeth discovered in it as well. The blood and teeth matched those of William Andrew Philip Bodie, ex-soldier, former CI5 operative, now deceased. The alleged killer, Raymond Doyle, had no alibi, and in fact, had been seen loading something that looked like a rolled carpet into the boot of that same car, which happened to belong to the murdered man, in the early morning hours of Monday past. Right in front of the deceased's own flat, and conveniently, in front of witnesses. The witnesses, two men who wished to remain anonymous for the present, had agreed to testify at trial. The article then speculated on several motives for the murder, and claimed that according to "reliable sources", it was possible the murder was a result of a love affair gone bad. 

Bodie read the article again, but no matter how many times he did so, there still wasn't any useful information about Doyle. He had to believe that Cowley would intercede on Doyle's behalf. If nothing else, Bodie knew that if Cowley had the power, he'd be sure that Doyle was in a protected environment even if he was in police custody. It wouldn't be safe for any cop to be locked up with common criminals. 

Sinking back against the wall, Bodie shivered violently. He knew that the infection was spreading and that his temperature was peaking. Still, he didn't give up hope. Doyle would find him. How, he hadn't a clue, but he had faith in his partner. And in George Cowley. He clutched the smelly blanket around him and willed himself to stay awake. For a while, it worked. 

\------------------------

Pain of a different sort woke Bodie. Sharp jabs repeatedly into his right flank brought him swiftly to consciousness. He mustered enough strength to remain still as he bided his time and set out a plan. He glanced through slitted eyes, watching Mather as she loomed over him. When she pulled back a booted foot and started to lashed out once again, he rolled over, catching her off guard and tumbling her to the floor. She went down with a surprised squeak before her head thudded harshly against the concrete. She lay stunned. Bodie didn't hesitate. His hands found her neck, and he snapped it quickly. Disgusted, he shoved her body away and wiped his hands on his dirty blanket. He took a moment to catch his breath before he dug through the handbag that had fallen to the floor and found the latest newspaper. 

With shaking fingers, he unfolded it and read the headline: "Gay CI5 Agent Killed After Provoking Prison Riot". Not bothering to read the rest of the article, he balled up the paper and threw it as hard as he could through the now-open gate. Bodie refused to let the news of Doyle's death register. He retreated inwardly and felt nothing as he automatically searched Mather's pockets, where he found the key to the gate. He held it up to the light and gave a hysterical chuckle. The one thing he didn't need. The bloody gate was now wide open, but still he was no nearer to escape. Another careful search of Mather's pockets and handbag revealed nothing of any use, and Bodie threw the handbag to the side with a grunt of disgust. He did yank off Mather's wool coat and toss it around his shoulders. Might as well, he reckoned. She wouldn't need it any longer. 

Bodie moved away from the body and sat on the blanket. He held the gate key in his hand, staring at it intently. He knew that somebody would find him eventually. His body more than likely, from the looks of things, and he needed to do something to ensure that even though his partner was- no. Don't think about that. Think about what would prove Doyle was innocent. That he wasn't responsible for his partner's death. Bodie almost smiled when the idea came to him. It would work. Death-bed confessions were taken quite seriously. And Cowley would believe his. 

Not hesitating, Bodie jabbed the key into his wrist. His strength was waning so it took three good pokes to bring up a sizable amount of blood. He watched as it flowed out of his vein with detached fascination before he dipped a finger into the fluid and wrote on the cement floor in large, shaky letters: DOYLE INOCNT MATHER KLLD ME + RAY 

Bodie observed his handiwork with satisfaction. Doyle deserved to be known as a good agent, and as the good man he was. Mather would be remembered as a murderer. Feeling dizzy, Bodie closed his eyes and willed the feeling to pass. Instead, he felt himself list sideways and slip to the floor. He blinked slowly, black spots dancing before his eyes. He fought the encroaching blackness with everything he possessed, but the spots were relentless as they swirled and bounced and merged until all that was left was blackness... 

\------------------------------

When Bodie opened his eyes, his mind was clear. He glanced around, surprised at his surroundings. He suddenly knew that he had been wrong in believing there was no God, no afterlife, and no heaven. 

He had been very wrong. 

The white light that surrounded him was amazing in its brilliance. It pulled him forward, a circle of warmth and comfort. He followed the light willingly, and as he entered into it he saw someone coming toward him. His eyes widened and he stared at the form as it approached. The figure was familiar, and he felt the incredible urge to be close to it. When they met, he saw – wings? White, gossamer wings floated on the apparition's back and brown curls glinted on the creature's head. In the next breath, he found himself held in the arms of an angel. Green eyes gazed into his, and Bodie smiled. 

Bodie was very pleased that he wasn't cold or dirty or hurting any longer.

\------------------------------

"Bodie? Thank God. You're finally awake." 

"Ray...?"

"Right here, mate. You'll be all right." 

"Ray?" 

"Bodie, settle down! You're sending the heart monitor into outer space. Relax!"

Strong hands pressed down on his shoulders, making him flinch. He took in a deep breath before he slowly exhaled. "Bloody hell." 

"I agree." 

Bodie felt Doyle's hands move away before one of them grasped his own hand. "Not dead?" he managed, blinking rapidly to clear his fuzzy vision. 

"No, you daft moron, you're not dead. Although I might very well kill you myself. Once you're on your feet, of course." 

"You're alive?" Bodie felt like an idiot as he babbled, but he was disoriented and tired. The air felt thick and heavy, and he would have given anything for a breath of fresh air. He tried to bat at the tube in his nose, but Doyle stilled his hand. 

"No, you're in hell, and I'm your worse nightmare." 

"Christ." 

"Wrong direction." 

Doyle's deep laugh tickled his ears, and Bodie enjoyed the melodious sound. 

"How do you feel?" 

"Crappy."

"Look it as well." 

"Cheers." 

"You gave me quite a scare."

Bodie wished his vision would settle. He didn't like the way it shifted from clear to fuzzy and back again. He wished to could see Doyle. But suddenly, it didn't matter that he couldn't see his partner. He could feel him. When Doyle pressed his forehead against Bodie's shoulder, Bodie quickly decided that holding him was good enough for now. His partner's arms wrapped about him, and Bodie felt that same sense of peace he remembered from... wherever he had been before. As long as Doyle was all right, his world was just about perfect. Bodie raised a hand and slipped his fingers through Doyle's hair, cupping Doyle's head in his palm. Satisfyingly held by his lover, he drifted into sleep. 

\-------------------------------

It took three more days before Bodie was finally on the right side of mending, and before he could manage to stay awake for more than five minutes at a time. Propped up against the headboard, carefully eating the grapes that Doyle had brought in, he finally interrogated his partner. Doyle, for his part, responded with even temper to each and every question, occasionally patting Bodie's knee as he sat on the side of the bed, sharing the sweet fruit with him. 

"So you weren't arrested?" 

"Oh, most definitely. That first headline was true. I had no idea where you'd got to. Spent hours and hours searching for you. Then the coppers nicked me, and I was hustled off. Spent two bloody nights locked up." Doyle shivered theatrically. "Don't want to do that again." 

"And the evidence?" 

"The tests on your blood came back positive. My clothes were covered with it, and I couldn't account for the time they said you'd been killed. I was home alone asleep, but apparently your little friend arranged for some bloke who looked like me to go 'round your place, start some sort of fight, wreck your flat, and then put your dead body, in the form of a big lump of carpet, into the boot of a car just like yours. And conveniently, there were witnesses." 

"Paid off?"

"No, not at all," Doyle said. "That was the beauty of it. They actually did see me – well, somebody who looked like me –" 

"Now that is quite frightening. Imagine somebody looking like you. Poor bastard," Bodie quipped, grinning at his lover. 

"You're a moron. Do you want to hear this or not?" At Bodie's elegant wave, Doyle threw a grape at his head. "So when they packed me off, Murphy said Cowley threw a fit. The coppers wouldn't let him near your place. The Minister said I was off limits, supposedly under guard, and that Cowley'd not be allowed to cover up your murder and let a deranged killer loose on the streets. Meaning me, of course." 

"Of course. I knew he'd look after you." 

Doyle grinned. "He finally came storming up to the place and demanded I be turned over to him. He had release papers signed by the PM himself. Cowley knew that something had happened to you when our own laboratory got the results of the drugs test he'd ordered on your blood, and he realised that you'd been nabbed because of the tranquillisers in your system. Horse tranquillisers actually." 

"Always fancied myself a member of the posh horsey set." Bodie grinned at Doyle's chuckle of amusement. "But I heartily dislike being drugged. Makes me quite ill. Hang on a bit. How did Cowley know you didn't pump me full of tranquillisers and off me?" 

With an evil laugh, Doyle said, "Cowley knows, with my sort of temper, that if you and I had it out, I'd very likely get rid of you with a quick bullet to the head. He knows I wouldn't have the patience to plot something with drugs and all." 

Bodie rolled eyes, and Doyle put on his most innocent face. They were silent for a few moments, daftly grinning at each other, relief at being back together making them almost giddy.

"Glad you're all right," Doyle finally said, softly. He leaned forward, meeting Bodie's own advance, and they kissed quickly. "Can't wait to get you sprung." 

"Same here," Bodie admitted. "How in hell did you figure out about – her?" 

"Right. When Cowley let me loose, I had no idea whether you were alive or dead, so I decided to assume you were alive. Started checking your regular pubs since it'd been Sunday afternoon. Didn't find a trace of you at any of them, so I started on the lot along the river where you sometimes like to go. Went through thirty of them before I found the one you'd been to. Do us a favour next time? Just go to your local." 

"Next time, you'll be with me. And every time after." Bodie fiddled with the sheet before he said, "It took a lot of dedication, or mental illness on your part, to keep at it so long. Ta, for that." 

Doyle gave him a warm smile. "Anyway, the barmaid remembered you when I showed your picture. She said you got pissed and passed out in the pub. I knew then that something had happened to you. You can handle your drink better than that." Bodie rolled his eyes, earning him a slap on the arm from Doyle. "She said that this very posh bird offered to take you home. Said the woman knew where you lived, and that she had two of the local lads help you out to her car. The barmaid described her to me, and I couldn't figure out who it could be. Found myself a pencil and a paper, and kept working at the description until the barmaid said I had it right. It was a good drawing, if I do say so myself. That's when I finally recognised Mather. 

"Cowley mustered the entire squad, and that's when we finally put the entire thing together. Jax tracked down the bloke who pretended to be me. Paid by Mather, he finally let on. The last headline was all our doing. Cowley had the paper make a fake headline and had the paper boy put it in her mail slot. I reckoned that she'd want to gloat to you over my death before she got rid of you. So I followed her, and found you."

"She must have drugged my drink. But how...? I had a game of darts with one of the lads." Bodie grinned sheepishly. "That's when she must have got to it. The pub was crowded and she must have come through the back." 

"I'm just happy I found you in time." 

"Thanks... for everything." 

"Don't go getting all soppy on me now, mate." Doyle grinned, his eyes revealing his relief, and his love. "And speaking of soppy, what was with the dying decree?" 

"What decree would that be?" Bodie said innocently, suddenly embarrassed at his bit of melodrama now that the worst was behind them. 

"The message you scrawled on the floor. God, Bodie, in your own blood no less!" 

With an devilish grin, Bodie said, "It's my mission in life to save your sorry arse. Besides, I told you I'm a romantic at heart." 

Doyle looked at him incredulously. After a long moment, he smiled. "Yeah, you did." 

Bodie touched Doyle's arm. "What about – that headline? You and me... being – queer and all." 

"Does it bother you?" 

"No! I was worried for you. I don't much care about that. As long as Cowley's not booting us out over it. I fancy staying on with this lot. And I'm definitely staying on with you."

"I'm in for the long run. With CI5 and with you. You first though, if push comes to shove." 

Bodie smiled. "I missed you. And my tea. What time is it? Where's dinner? I'm hungry." 

"What do you say I get them to spring you, and I take you home and," Doyle arched an eyebrow, "take care of you personally? I've got some nice fresh vegetables and a bit of chicken with your name on it in my fridge. And a warm bed to cuddle in. If you fancy that sort of thing. And if you promise to rest." 

Bodie thought his face would split with the grin that crossed his lips. "I could use a bit of home cooking. Where are my clothes?" 

"Hang about. We'll get you released properly or Cowley will have my head. You'll be needing your antibiotics and pain medication as well. I'll go and get it all in order." Doyle pointed a finger at his mate. "You stay put until I return." 

"I'll give you ten minutes, then I'm going home. With or without you," he added teasingly. 

Doyle rose, he leaned over and kissed Bodie's lips firmly. "Love you." 

"You too, angelfish." Bodie drank in Doyle's wide grin and happy countenance, and with contentment, he sat back to await the return of his own personal guardian angel. He might not believe in much, but he did believe in Ray Doyle.

**Author's Note:**

> First published in Secret Agent Men 9 by Requiem Publications.


End file.
